


The Hunter Case

by Fizzysquish



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: 1920’s setting, Alastor doesn't understand emotions and is somewhat of a yandere, Alastor is alive, Angst, Author uses way too many commas, Cussing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Other, Reader is a detective, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, Stalking, Talk of gore, Time Skips, author is ignoring all period typical racism misogyny queerphobia etc, basically reader is a mysterious dork and Als a infatuated, descriptions of dead bodies, forced cuddling, forced hugs, im bad at summaries sorry, sorta - Freeform, third person switching pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fizzysquish/pseuds/Fizzysquish
Summary: A serial killer? Looks like a job for the ever eager and ever reliant detective, Y/n L/n!





	1. One Sunny Summers day...

A young boy is walking through the woods, long since strayed from the original path and all on his lonesome. He's not lost, per say, as he does know the general way back to his home, or at least to the city.

His parents will be furious with him once he gets back, but the kid's been cooped up for weeks, down with a fever and a terrible cough, and now that he's free he cant keep still. So, he takes to the woods, a place that not many care to run around anymore.

Unlike the bustling, music filled city, the woods are quite. Theres the soft crunch of grass as he steps on it, and the sound of a creek somewhere nearby, but besides that all is silent. No breeze, no sound, nothing... it's peaceful.

And then the boy smells something funny.

Well, not funny, but thats what you call something you don't know about and don't like. Its gross, to be blunt. Beyond gross. It wreaks, and makes him nearly gag simply from the odor. He glances around, brows furrowing.

Did something die?

He thinks of when his old dog died, long ago, and what a horrible smell its body made. It's similar to that, but much, much worse. But it wasn't unusual for things to be dead out here, it's the woods after all, and just because he was a little boy going for a harmless walk didn't mean nature would stop for him. It's something his Momma had taught him early on, and he remembered it every time he came out here.

The boy looked around.

He couldn't see anything dead, not at a first glance. Five more steps, and he felt his body instinctively tense up. Something in him was on edge. Four steps, he hoped on a fallen log, and froze.

His breath catches in his throat, and he falls backwards, tumbling off the log and onto his back.

He shot back up as quick as he could, eyes stilled trained on the object of his horror, and began stumbling backwards. And then he turned, quickly bolting back towards his home, towards the safety of his parents and the city, screaming and sobbing the whole while.

"MURDER! THERES BEEN A MURDER!"


	2. Let’s begin

Y/n groaned as they awoke, gripping their pillow and pulling it over their head.

The pounding (knocking) at their door became muffled, and they sighed happily once it seemed to stop.

Only to growl as the pillow was promptly ripped from their hands.

"You better have a good read reason for waking me, Sammy, or i swear to God im gonna shoot ya."

There was a snort, and then a hand ruffled their hair, and Sam spoke. "You got a phone call, Detective." That made the messy head of h/c look up. They squinted, glancing at the clock on their bedside table.

"At three am?"

Sam threw the pillow at them and rolled his eyes fondly.

"Crime doesn't sleep Sugar, you know that."

Y/n huffed at the pet name, but began getting up anyways. Swinging their legs out of bed, the Detective yawned loudly, stretching their arms high above their head.

"Did they say why?"

"Nope, just said it was important and to hurry down to the station."

Y/n hummed.

"...you arent in trouble right?"

"Shouldn't be, haven't done nothin' bothersome lately."

Sam watches his friend move around the room, brows furrowing as they use 'bothersome' to describe what they do.

Y/n was a amazing detective, everyone knew that, but sometimes they used rather... troublesome means to get what they needed. But instead of being fired for these unlawful acts (or were they lawful? They got the job done, after all, and there was often less bloodshed with it), Y/n would simply be given a scolding and a case boring enough to serve as a punishment. They were simply much too important to be permanently fired.

Didnt stop their friend and roommate from worrying though.

"Right well... Just keep me updated, I guess. Don't want you comin' home bawlin' your eyes out cause ya got scolded again."

Y/n laughed, looking at him as they grinned slyly and tilted their head to the side.

"Aaaw, are you worried about me Sammy?"

"Nope, just don't wanna find ya drunk and sobbing on the kitchen floor again. You're a damn hassle to deal with when your drunk."

The two looked at each other for a bit. Sam squinting in false annoyance, and Y/n grinning like a smug cat.

Then the Detective wiggled their eyebrows, and Sam choked, a laugh forcing its way out.

"Close your head, you boob!"

Y/n giggled, turning back to grab their chosen clothes and nodding their head. "I'll let you know Samual, promise."

He nodded his head, leaving them to make his own breakfast and let the Detective get dressed.

***

Y/n pulled their trench coat tighter around themselves, huffing.

Four am and they were walking down a dimly lit street, going over just what the hell could be so important to warrant a phone call this early. The only option they could come up with was a homocide. Everyone at the station avoided calling them late or early if they can help it, knowing very well how little the Detective actually sleeps, so it'd have to be pretty serious if they were called down there before the sun rose.

Murder is serious.

They sighed while walking through the front doors, quickly flashing the secretary a smile and offering a polite "Morning" before continuing on.

Elevator up to the third floor, down the hall, fourth door on the left. The plaque on the door read 'CAPT HOLT', the clubhouses main boss.

Not technically Y/n's boss, though.

It's a interesting situation they're in, to say the least. A detective, a PI... one gives Y/n authority, the other gives them freedom. Both feel wrong when they say it.

But they like Holt, even if he is a bit stiff, and they like the donuts and smiles the nice secretary gives them near every morning, so Detective it is.

For now at least.

Six knocks exactly. One, than three, then two. Its a little secret, they like to think, something fun just between them and the Captain. Something that makes them friends.

"Come in."

The detective opens the door with a big grin, walking in with a flourish.

"Mornin' Boss!"

Holt rolls his eyes, but they can tell it's in more of a fond exasperation than anything. He's long since stopped trying to make them drop the nickname, because old habits die hard and he's come to realize that it's something Y/n will likely never grow out of.

"Y/n."

He nods at them in greeting, motioning the other to sit down while he pushes a breakfast sandwich towards them. The Detective plops down without much grace, another thing the Captain's long given up on correcting.

"Thanks"

He nodded again, then got up and went to the file cabinet in the corner to search through the files. 

Y/n keeps their eyes on him. He was upset, they were sure of that. They're curious to find out why though.

A file was dropped onto the desk in front on them, and Y/n set their sandwich aside to grab a napkin. Hands clean, they picked it up, reading the name with a raised eyebrow.

" _The 'Hunter'?_ " They asked, confused. Who the hell was The Hunter? And why do they have such a cliche nickname?

"Yes, the Hunter. It's a...somewhat new case, and I don't particularly like the name either, but my opinion on such doesn't really matter." He looks at Y/n and then adds, "and neither does yours."

They huff.

"Anyways, Its a somewhat new case, as I've said, and i would like you to take it."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm your boss, and because I imagine you'll find it quite interesting."

Y/n didn't reply, but simply hummed in response, looking the file over. There wasn't much at all really, just the usual notes about the locations, the perp escalating, what may be his signature...and then the corpse files. Now those caught their attention.

There were seven corpse file pages.

Brows furrowed, Y/n looked up at Holt, a deep frown on their face. " _Seven bodies?_ "

"Technically eight now, just got the call this morning."

" _What the hell Holt?!_ Why didn't you tell me about this before?!"

The name jolts him slightly, and he looks away while sighing. "Because you've been busy, _very busy_ , and I had thought the police there could take care of it themselves." He holds up a finger before the agitated Detective can say anything. "I know you don't like it, and I know you're going to...remind me how 'incompetent and immoral' you think the other cops are, but we don't have time for that. Not right now at least."

The detective squares their shoulders, eyes narrowed and jaw set. They're still mad, but chewing out the captain will have to wait. Right now, they've got a killer to catch, and a crime scene to investigate.

" **Tell me everything that's happened, Boss**."

The breakfast sandwich was long forgotten about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Close your head- shut up
> 
> Boob- a dumb guy 
> 
> Clubhouse- police station
> 
> Gumshoe- Detective


	3. Chapter 3

Y/n arrives to the scene only four hours after their debriefing, and is rather... ticked, to say the least.

There are reporters everywhere, first of all. Everyone of them were much too close to the scene, to the evidence, and it takes all the detective's willpower not to screech like a banshee at them to 'Get the hell away from my goddamn crime scene!!-' as they push through the crowd.

It isn't until Y/n show's their badge at the front, to a tall and older looking officer tasked with holding the press back, that the hungry crowd takes notice of them. And boy, do they notice now.

Instantly after their let into the scene, questions start flying at them.

"Detective, what are your thoughts-"

"Detective, what happened tonight-"

"Detective, what are your plans-"

They walk away before the urge to scream becomes a reality.

***

The crime scene itself isnt much better, annoyingly. Most of the cops are just lazing around, pretending to be on the look out to preserve the scene and keep unwanted press off it.

The fact that they can instantly spot four civilians shows just how well they were doing on that job...

But Y/n has a body to check and a scene investigate, so they once again force their anger down to a low simmer and push on, pointedly ignoring the feeling of eyes staring at them the whole time.

***

If they had just turned their focus to the right, e/c would've met rich brown and the peppy radio host would've been happy with that, content to just catch their eye for now, even if only for a minute. Instead though, he now watched them like a hawk, scribbling notes and questions in his small notebook.

He could wait a little longer.

***

The Detective almost wants to cry tears of joy when they find the doctor actually doing his job, correctly, checking over the body with gloves (thank God!!) and writing notes down as he goes along. He's got a list going, notes about the damage on the corpse and the conditions of the surrounding area, and Y/n is highly tempted to hug him in relief.

"You have no idea how worried i was about this," they say instead, reading over the notes and grinning. "Thought i was gonna haftta' start screamin' at some pill's for touchin the damn thing." 

That gets a laugh out of the doctor, or Henry, as he had introduced himself. He was a somewhat older man, around his late forties if you had to guess, with fading brown hair and bright blue eyes and a deep voice.

"Well i'm glad I could be a relief to you then, Detective. I'm nearly done here, so i'll send you a copy of the files once i get back to the morgue." He paused, seeming to realize something as his brows furrowed and he looked at Y/n. "Where exactly will you be staying, by the way? I'd imagine it's somewhere in the station."

They nod, grin dimming somewhat at the reminder."Yes, i'll be taking residency in the station for now, office 1018, if i remember correctly."

He raises a brow at them. "For now?"

"I don't always do well in such..." Y/n waved their hand in a vague gesture to the area around them. "Crowded areas. I'll most likely eventually move somewhere else, like my hotel room or... somewhere. I don't know, I'll figure it out."

Henry nodded, offering a closed mouthed smile in understanding before taking the papers from the detective and gesturing to the two other doctors to get ready to leave.

"Well, you're always very welcome in my office, Y/n, if you ever need it."

"...Thank you, Henry..."

***

Once the group of doctors left, with the corpse and notes and friendly Mr.Henry, Y/n was once again left alone to investigate as they please.

There wasn't much, sadly, and after roughly ten minutes of poking around the area and searching for clues, the Detective decided to leave it for now. (Later, once everyone else had left and it was dark out, they'ed come back and stake out the area for some of the night. It was always surprising how many perps would come right back to the same spot later on.)

All they left to do now was talk to the witnesses. Their least favorite part, granted, but it wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Currently there were four civilians in the crime scene, one was the kid who had found the body itself (a strike of anger shot through them at the realization that they must of been brought back here), along with two adults who they could only assume we're the kids parents, and... A reporter.

"Mother, fucker." Y/n hisses, furrowing their brow. A reporter in the crime scene, right next to their witnesses. Wonderful.

Whatever, they could deal with that later. Getting the kids account and getting them out of the damn area was more important bright now.

***

The radio host jumped just the smallest bit when the Detective's eyes suddenly snapped to his own. Or, at least he thought it was to his, at they stared at each other for a minute or so before the detective shook their head and started trudging towards him.

Wait, no, not him, them, he corrected himself. This little group he was in. With the still shell shocked and frightened family a bit to his right. It was the only way he could get into the crime scene, was what the guard had told him. Which, to be fair, was still a lot better than everyone else got.

The detective paused at him first, nodding their head once in acknowledgement of him.

"Name?"

He gave them a bright, toothy smile and shot a hand out to them. "Alastor, my dear!"

They shook his hand politely, before directing their gaze to the small family.

"Detective Y/n L/n. I'd like to talk to the main witnesses first, if you don't mind."

Well, yes he did mind, but he supposed that made sense.

"Of course!"

A nod in thanks, and then they were moving away from him and towards the group.

***

Alastor was so focused on watching the detective, that he somehow lost focus on them. Does that make any sense? Who knows, but what he know is that he's been apparently dissociating the whole time the family and Detective L/n have been talking, and now their attention was turning to him while another officer began escorting the family away.

"You'a reporter?"

Alastor blinked a second before shaking his head, a laugh tumbling out of him.

"No-"

"Journalist? News broadcaster?"

"No! Although you are close dear-" He couldn't help but chuckle as their eyes narrowed at the endearment. "I'm a radio host!"

"A... Radio host."

He nodded, deeply amused at the suspicious look they gave him.

"Why is a radio host snooping around my crime scene?"

"To meet you, my friend!"

"Me?"

Alastor nodded his head, reaching out to grab the Detective's hands and smile brightly at them.

"Yes, you! I've heard all sorts of stories about your work, and I simply had to meet you! So when I heard you would be working this case-"

"Were the hell didya hear that?"

"-I just knew I had to find someway to get in and meet you!"

By this point Alastor was aware he had stepped into the Detective's bubble, holding their hands together in between them both and staring deeply into those lovely e/c eyes. The detective, for their part, didn't look too particularly phased, simply choosing to take a step back and huffing.

"Well, alright then..." They shook their head. "I suppose this means yer looking for some kinda' interview, aren't you?" 

"Not at all!" He paused, "Well... If you wanted to have one, I wouldn't be opposed-" 

"Figured." They tugged their hands back, and Alastor watched as they sighed and pulled a small notebook out of their pocket, flipping through it briefly and quickly glancing around the area.

"You know what, as long as we can get coffee or something while we're talking, I don't see why not."

The notebook was shut with a snap and shoved back into their pocket, The Detective already beginning to walk, Alastor right on their tail.

"Why thank you Detective! I promise you want regret this!~"

"Just Y/n's fine. If we're gonna to be talking for long, I'd much rather we drop the formalities, if you please."

The Radio Host felt something warm blossom in his chest, bringing a much softer, happier smile to his mouth as he walked beside his Detective.

"Of course, Y/n."


End file.
